Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (66 page)

Or she'd have been dead. He shook off the thought. There was no sense living in what might have been, especially when God had definitely kept the worst from happening. And there was no other explanation for this bizarre twist to his day, no other reason for him to be here other than to watch over her, to somehow fix what he'd broken years ago.

After a brief conversation with the police, Josh sank into a chair near Andrea. “You doing okay?”

She looked up from flexing her ankle. “I'm still here, thanks to you, and my ankle hurts less every second. All in all, it ended better than it should have.” Before Josh could dig deeper, she rested her foot on the floor and gripped her knees. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Josh sprang to his feet, his pulse quickening and driving hammers into the impact point on his cheek. He never should have forgotten why he was here in the first place. “Specialist Cameron. Where is he?”

The question barely ended before Andrea reacted. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, she stood gingerly and faced off, fists clenched. “What's going on, Josh?”

* * *

Prickles of fear crawled up Andrea's spine and spread into her fingernails. The boy she'd known years ago was now the man who happened into her office at just the right time? Two men bursting in to ask about the same young soldier? More than a dozen years had passed since she last laid eyes on Josh, and there was no way to tell what he'd gotten into in the intervening time. For all intents and purposes, he was as much a stranger as the giant she'd kicked in the face.

Andrea crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. Her mind whirled for a way to escape while her ankle protested enough to let her know in no uncertain terms that she couldn't expect to make a run for it and get very far.
Take control of the situation. Buck his authority. Let him know you're in charge.
“What do you want with Specialist Cameron?”

Perplexity floated across the brown eyes that locked on to hers. Josh's eyebrows drew together in a
V,
betraying his confusion at her barely concealed accusation. “He's one of my soldiers. Where is he?” His gaze darted around the room, taking in each corner.

“Clearly, he's not here. And your friend who just ran out of here got the same speech from me. I won't tell you the last time I saw Specialist Cameron, but I will tell you it wasn't today.” Andrea held her breath and stiffened her spine, unwilling to believe Josh could be on the wrong side of this, but knowing she had to protect herself and Wade if he was.

“My friend?” He looked back to her, and a sudden flicker of understanding darkened his features. “Wait a second. You think I was with the punk who just busted in here and tried to tear you into pieces?”

“You're both asking for the same person. That's a little too much of a coincidence, don't you think?” Indignation surged through Andrea, and she fought to hold it back. Her ankle might be throbbing, but her fists were ready to fly. She'd show this dark-eyed man he'd messed with the wrong woman if he so much as breathed too hard. He'd have more than a bruised cheek to worry about if...

She tilted her head. Had she actually given him that bruise? Smug warmth heated her face. Sweet. She still had it, even at thirty-two and after six years of sitting behind a desk.

Josh cleared his throat. “I have no idea what your first visitor wanted, but I can tell you that at approximately 1630 I watched Specialist Wade Cameron walk through those doors—” he jerked his thumb behind him “—and take a left turn.” His eyes scanned the lobby and lit on a door as his words evaporated into the muggy air.

Andrea tipped her head, still tensed for a fight. What was he talking about? “Wade never came in here. At 4:30 I was halfway through a fifty-minute session. With my receptionist Grace on vacation, Wade would have sat right here in these chairs and waited if you dropped him off here.” She stepped between Josh and the door he still eyed. “That's a supply closet. The only other way out of this building is down that hall.” She pointed behind her to an opening near her office, on the opposite side of the lobby from the closet. “But that door's always locked and it's armed with a fire alarm. The only way out without making a racket is to unlock it and turn it off with the key, and only my receptionist and I have one.”

“He's in that closet, then. I never saw him come back across the lobby, and there's nowhere else in here he could be,” Josh muttered, moving to brush past her.

“Hold on.” Andrea planted a palm against his chest. It felt like a brick wall. Her hand burned against him. Liquid warmth seeped through her muscles, robbing them of their readiness. Was she crazy? The guy could be in league with the man who attacked her and she was noticing his chest? Maybe she should be the one having her head examined. She swallowed hard and willed her muscles back into fight mode. “Why did you bring Wade here?”

“You're his counselor, I'm assuming? Alcohol abuse? He came to me and said he was struggling, that he'd slipped and started—”

“No.” Andrea braced her free hand on the reception counter. History couldn't repeat itself. It couldn't. They'd worked too hard to set him free. “There's no way. Wade isn't using again. That's not possible.” Wade Cameron had come so far. He'd shown up in her office with an alcohol addiction so strong he couldn't even get out of bed to go to physical training without a shot. When that didn't work, he'd turned to marijuana. One hit, and he knew he'd gone too far. That was the day he'd shown up in her office, begging for help, ready to break the craving that was dragging him to his knees through the muck, threatening to ruin his career.

Josh softened. “He asked for help. He has a lot of respect for you. Not too long ago, he told me if anything ever happened to him I should see his counselor, Andrea. I had no problem bringing him here and waiting for him to come out again, only—”

“He never came out. But he never talked to me and there's no way he got out the back door.”

* * *

Betrayal locked Josh's back teeth together, shooting pain through the muscles in his injured cheek. He should never have teamed up with her brother to teach her how to defend herself. He took two steps toward the closed closet.

Andrea pushed herself from the counter and grabbed his biceps. “No. Give him a chance to come out before you go barging in. If he's hiding, there's a reason. Let him man up and face you instead of dragging him out like a child.”

Josh bit back a groan. Leave it to a therapist to play mind games. Fine. He'd call his soldier out, but he'd do it with every ounce of his authority. “Cameron!” The roar echoed off the walls.

Andrea jumped. “I didn't mean so loud,” she muttered. “You make
me
want to hide in the closet.”

With a quick, amused glance in her direction, Josh took a deep breath and swallowed some of his ire. If he were a scared kid, he wouldn't come out to bellowing, either. But any coward who hid while a lady fought off an attacker didn't deserve much leniency in his book. Still, he'd humor her and lower his voice, but he refused to tone down the sternness. “Let's go, Cameron. Time to talk.”

No sound leaked from the closet.

“You scared him.” Andrea wasn't smiling anymore. “Let me handle it.” She stepped to the door. “Wade, it's Andrea Donovan. The only two people out here are me and First Sergeant Walker. It's safe.”

When nothing happened, Josh's blood pressure soared. “This has gone far enough,” he muttered, his words drowned out by sirens from an approaching police car. Without wasting another second, he slipped around Andrea and yanked the wooden supply closet door open.

It was empty.

Wade Cameron had vanished.

TWO

W
hen the front door to her apartment closed behind her, Andrea peered through the peephole and watched the policeman who had escorted her home disappear from sight down the heavy metal stairs. They'd searched her office building, taken her statement and Josh's, and insisted the paramedics give her a once-over. When they were finally convinced her ankle was only twisted and she'd been allowed to leave, the police had discovered Wade had crawled out through the drop ceiling to the office next door and walked out the back. The whole evening took on a surreal quality colored by a heightened emotional hangover and fatigue.

She turned and pressed her back against the door, staring at the empty space of an apartment that suddenly felt larger than the White House. What if the guy she'd kicked in the face had followed her home? What if he knew where she lived and was already here waiting?

Her spine dug into the door as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She'd chosen this apartment because its third-floor location meant the door was the only way in. Now, alone in the dark, only one way in meant only one way out. She'd been all bravado in front of Josh, confident after bruising her attacker, but being alone now seemed to make the day's events loom larger.

Josh.
It had been years since she'd last seen him. He'd been her brother's high school baseball teammate, her first really big crush. The times he'd allowed his senior self to hang around a freshman like her, she'd have thought he'd dropped to one knee and proposed with a six-carat solitaire.

Andrea rolled her eyes heavenward and let them slip shut.
Lord Jesus, please don't let him remember the way I gushed over him back then.
That humiliation might be ten times worse than an attempted snatch and grab in her office lobby.

The feeling that unseen eyes watched her slowly dissipated as Andrea dropped the mail on the kitchen counter then marched through the apartment, flipping on lights and peeking in closets. Back in the kitchen, the neon of the microwave clock declared it to be nearly eleven. No wonder she was hungry enough to chew the linoleum like a puppy.

She dug a frozen chicken dinner out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave as a thought occurred to her. Puppies. Andrea had never been a dog person, but tonight it sure would be nice to have one. A dog would curl up beside her on the love seat and make her feel a little less alone. A dog would sound an alarm if someone tried to sneak in while sleep left her vulnerable.

Like sleep was going to happen anytime soon.

Every time she blinked, that giant of a man loomed in front of her. It wasn't hard to imagine what it would be like when she turned off the lights and actually shut her eyes. He'd likely materialize in her room and try to steal her again.

And this time, there would be no Josh Walker to intervene.

He'd taken her number with a promise to call if anyone found Wade Cameron, but she seriously doubted there would be a call from him otherwise. He'd barely said a personal word to her all evening. Even all these years later, that dredged up vague disappointment.

The beep of the microwave drowned out her chuckle. Guess some dreams never really died. Especially not the ones dreamed over melting ice cream and soft drinks with giggly girlfriends on warm spring days at high school baseball fields. Of course, the other girls were giggling over her brother. Back then it had been disgusting but now, with the haze of time to soften the edges of her memory, she could see where they'd found Brendan interesting. If only...

The shaking started again, but this time it came from the inside out, from the sudden rush of emotion at her brother's memory. The stainless-steel refrigerator door supported Andrea as she leaned back, trying to breathe through the internal assault. First the attack and now the memories. The army had taught her to keep a warrior's fist on her emotions, to kick fear into the nearest Iraqi canal. If an ambush on her convoy in the desert couldn't take her down, neither would a lone giant in her very own office.

With shaking hands, Andrea pulled the plastic tray from the microwave and grimaced at the contents, then dropped them into the trash. Peanut butter and jelly had to be better than this.

She was sloshing milk into a tall glass when her cell phone trilled. Nerves shook her hand and she stifled a groan as milk sloshed onto the mail she'd tossed to the counter earlier. Beautiful. It felt like the worst thing that could happen, the last nail in the coffin of a twisted day.

Andrea slammed the carton down and pinched the bridge of her nose. No way. She'd been through too much to morph into the girl who cried over spilled milk.

She snatched the phone from the counter and answered as she shoved envelopes away from the puddle of milk, streaking white across the dark stone. “Hello?” Her voice stretched as she reached for the towel hanging from the stove handle and mopped up the mess.

“Andrea?”

The deep timbre of the voice froze her hand in midswipe. Something about it made her heart take a side step, but it wasn't fear this time. It might be worse.

Cold milk seeped through the towel to her fingers, jolting her from her thoughts. “Oh!” Envelopes flew across the stovetop as she flicked her wrist in dismissal. “I mean, yes. It's me. Who is this?” Her mind wasn't sure, but her heart didn't have much doubt. Stupid memories.

There was a long pause from the other end of the line. “It's Josh Walker.” His voice teetered slightly on the edge of uncertainty.

She'd just been wishing to hear his voice, just been wishing for the comfort of his presence. It was more than she'd thought it would be, washing a peace over her that defied description, the kind of peace she hadn't felt since... There was no way to remember when.

Distraction. There had to be a way to get away from the emotions his voice conjured. Nestling the phone in the crook of her neck, she gripped the nearest envelope and tore the end open. Even a credit card offer would be better than acknowledging she hadn't matured a whit since she was in high school. “Josh. How are you?” That was lame. She shook the envelope and let the contents slide into her hand, wishing life had a rewind button for moments like this.

Whatever Josh's answer was, it was drowned out by the sudden buzz in her ears. Staring up at her from the top photo in her hand was her own face as she spoke to the homeless man who often dropped by the office. Words, written in red ink, were scrawled across the image.
Stop what you're doing.
The image was taken through the scope of a rifle...and the crosshairs were centered on her forehead.

* * *

Josh's mind flashed giant red lights. “What's going on?” He sat up from where he'd flopped down on his couch as he'd dialed her number. Something had told him to call her. Had they found her? His feet hit the floor. “Did that guy—”

“No.” The word was tight, like she'd wrapped it in rubber bands.

Something definitely wasn't right. “Talk to me, Andrea.”

“Give me a second!” It was a whip shot straight to his gut. Either she didn't want to talk to him or very bad things were happening. Neither was good.

The silence nearly stretched on too long. “Someone sent me pictures.” Andrea's voice held a measured control that did nothing to ease his mind. “Of me. At the counseling center. Two days ago.” The pause seemed to crackle with her tension. “Through a high-powered scope.”

Josh's back teeth ground together. He would not let this happen. He'd failed to act the last time, and the consequences still haunted him. This time would be different. “I'm coming over. Call the police, and I'll be there as—”

“Stop it.” For the first time since she answered the phone, it didn't sound as if there was a script in front of her. “There's no reason for you to come here. All you can do is confirm for yourself that the photos exist.”

“At least call the police.”

“It's pointless. I managed to dump milk all over them before I touched them. Nobody's going to find anything.” She sighed. “Realistically, what are they going to do? I've been through this with a client before. I'll have to keep the pictures and establish a pattern of harassment. And get a restraining order against...who? Nobody even knows who this guy is.”

“There are emergency restraining orders.”

“I know, but I'll be honest.” She sniffed. “I can't take any more tonight. More police and more acknowledgement that this happened... It almost seems worse than the threat.”

This wasn't something Andrea needed to dismiss so easily. If she planned to distance herself from anything, it shouldn't be the danger. And the way she was talking, she'd chosen ignorance over her own safety. “You're not considering the obvious.” It was a bad move, whether or not he understood it. Too often overseas, he'd been tempted to lull himself into a false sense of security, to seek refuge in denial. But he'd watched one too many good soldiers die because he'd chosen the delusion of peace over the reality of imminent harm. Letting Andrea do the same wasn't part of his DNA.

“Believe me. I know. This isn't just about Wade's file. It might not even be about Wade at all. I don't know what to even consider. The thing I need most right now is to sleep and forget this is happening for a few hours, but we both know that probably won't happen.”

He should hang up on her and call the police himself, but the likelihood of her forgiving him after that was pretty much nonexistent. If he severed ties with her, who would watch her back? If she wanted to go on her own, the least he could do was go with her. “Okay, against my better judgment, you can have your way. For now.” Even as he said the words, second thoughts tore him apart. This went against all common sense. “But you have to let me do something.”

The silence was long, and he let her have it. From what he remembered, pushing her was a guaranteed way to make her turn in on herself, like the armadillos that were so prevalent in the woods around Fort Benning. “What I need, I guess, is...to talk about something else. To be distracted. To not be alone.”

Whatever cracked around his heart caused an almost physical pain.
Alone.
It was a feeling he knew all too well. He swallowed hard against what the sound of her voice did to his heart and sought for something to say. “You're really okay?” Why did his voice go four octaves deeper than usual?

He cleared his throat. It seemed like something had been stuck there ever since he climbed in his truck to drive home and realized he'd come face-to-face with Andrea Donovan again.

How could her unexpected appearance yank at something so deep inside him? He knew muscle memory was real. Years of training had proven it to him. Emotional memory was a new one. Apparently it existed, and it was strong. The things her voice did to him shouldn't happen this long after he'd last seen her, especially with all that had happened, but his skin prickled nonetheless.

“I'm okay.” She took a breath so deep it echoed over the phone line. “I'm just really, really hungry.”

Josh laughed so suddenly and so loudly it almost scared him. He just hoped she didn't think he was laughing at her.

To his relief, she joined him.

His immediate purpose drew into sharper focus. Right now, Andrea needed him to do his best to fix this moment. “That sounded more like it should have been my line.”

“It is what it is.” She was clearly chewing. “Girls get hungry, too.”

“And it sounds like they talk with their mouths full. So never call a guy a pig again. I know you've probably done it before. Every girl has.”

She giggled, and the sound ran up his spine like lightning.

Josh dropped back onto the couch and stretched his feet out in front of him. The memory of her laughing as she watched her brother's baseball games played like a movie in front of him. It had been a challenge to keep his eye on the ball from third base. She'd flip her hair over her shoulder and throw her head back at something one of her friends said and, for a moment, he'd forget about base hits and ground balls. Yeah, she'd cost him an out or two back in the day.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. He'd forgive her.

It warmed him that she hadn't changed, that something of the girl he once knew still existed in the woman who'd stumbled back into his life today. What would it take to hear that laugh again? Back then he'd only enjoyed it from a distance. Every time they'd gotten close, she'd turned inside herself, grown quiet, the laughter disappearing from her eyes. Something about him had turned her so far off she ceased to be herself whenever he was around. Whatever it was, it seemed to have dissipated over the years. Josh took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to force the thoughts away. Frankly, he'd take what he could get. “What're you eating?”

“PB&J and a big ol' glass of milk.” There was a pause, then her voice cleared after she swallowed. “Fighting for her life leaves a girl sort of hungry.” The words didn't quite sound as light as she probably wanted them to.

The fear around the edges struck a nerve. More than anything, Josh wanted to slay that dragon for her. The only thing he could do from his couch was keep her talking. He scanned his living room as though a topic of conversation would suddenly appear. “So, you're a rehab counselor now?” He winced. That might keep her talking, but it wasn't a subject he necessarily wanted to broach.

“Substance abuse counselor. I was in the army for a while. I went in after Brendan...” Her voice weakened on her brother's name, but came back strong. “But then I decided I wanted to do something for the soldiers who are too afraid of having their careers destroyed if they go to army counseling or use Tricare to pay for services, so here I am working with soldiers and their families. Private donors and churches keep the doors open.”

Her passion touched something deep inside him and sparked an appreciation she'd likely never understand. The desire to unload the whole story onto her nearly overwhelmed him, but he swallowed the words. She'd never forgive him, and he couldn't sever this tenuous bond now, not before he saw this to the end, protected now like he'd failed to protect so many years ago. “You see a lot of Brendan in these soldiers.”